The Champion of the the Dancer [2/2]
anonymous
January 11 2011, 15:36:50 UTC
Phoebus, the Captain of the Guard and war hero, is suddenly tripping over his own feet to reach her. When he pulls her into his arms again, her bare skin touches his own, and he has left a trail of clothes behind to match hers.
Esmeralda pulls him down onto their bed, her arms wrapping around his neck to kiss him. She rolls him until his back is pressed against the sheets and Esmeralda straddles him. When she releases him from the kiss, she moves down his body, lightly biting his skin. Phoebus lays back, unmoving, content to let Esmeralda take control.
When her fingers find him and begin to stroke him, Phoebus thrusts up into her hand, groaning all the while. Her touch on him is gently as she steadies him. The pair locks eyes as Esmeralda slowly sinks down onto him. When he is fully inside her and they are skin to skin again, Esmeralda circles her hips, drawing a gasp out of both of them.
As she rocks against him, her breasts swaying with the motion, it looks to him like she’s dancing. This time, though, she is dancing only for him. Only Phoebus is allowed to see this private dance; only he is allowed to be her partner and guide her through the steps of the dance.
Though she’s enjoying herself as she raises herself up and down on his shaft, her eyes tightly shut, Phoebus wants to lead her through the rest of this dance himself. When he grabs her arms, her eyes open, but she doesn’t resist Phoebus as he rolls them on the bed, leaving Esmeralda the one with her back pressed against the sheets. She doesn’t protest, only groans happily as her husband takes control over their movements. He thrusts in and out of her, the motions fast and short to speed their journey toward that glorious climax that is building between them.
Ever the gentleman, Phoebus always pleasures Esmeralda to her limit before finishing with himself. Even as he continues to pound into her, one hand travels down her body, over her thigh, and between her legs. He strokes her where they are joined, the gentleness of his fingers a stark contrast to the fierce force of his hips grinding into her.
The stroking is all it takes to send Esmeralda into the height of her passions and pleasures. As her body tightens around him, her head falls back as she screams his name into the night.
All it takes is three more thrusts inside her until Phoebus joins his wife in that unlimited bliss. After both have screamed themselves hoarse, the pair collapse onto the bed, Phoebus falling away from Esmeralda so she is not trapped under him. Esmeralda reaches from her husband but Phoebus is sitting up and pulling away from her. Before she can utter a protest, he is already returning to her arms, pulling the blanket with him. She laughs as he lays the blanket over both their bodies and wraps her tightly in his arms.
Their sweat soaked skin brushes together as they settle back onto their bed. Phoebus brushes Esmeralda’s long hair away from her face so he can press a kiss to her forehead.
“I love you, my champion in shining armor,” she whispers to him.
“I love you, my Gypsy dancer.”
---
It's a bit cliche, a bit lovey-dovey, but I had fun writing it. It was definitely a guilty pleasure fill.
Esmeralda pulls him down onto their bed, her arms wrapping around his neck to kiss him. She rolls him until his back is pressed against the sheets and Esmeralda straddles him. When she releases him from the kiss, she moves down his body, lightly biting his skin. Phoebus lays back, unmoving, content to let Esmeralda take control.
When her fingers find him and begin to stroke him, Phoebus thrusts up into her hand, groaning all the while. Her touch on him is gently as she steadies him. The pair locks eyes as Esmeralda slowly sinks down onto him. When he is fully inside her and they are skin to skin again, Esmeralda circles her hips, drawing a gasp out of both of them.
As she rocks against him, her breasts swaying with the motion, it looks to him like she’s dancing. This time, though, she is dancing only for him. Only Phoebus is allowed to see this private dance; only he is allowed to be her partner and guide her through the steps of the dance.
Though she’s enjoying herself as she raises herself up and down on his shaft, her eyes tightly shut, Phoebus wants to lead her through the rest of this dance himself. When he grabs her arms, her eyes open, but she doesn’t resist Phoebus as he rolls them on the bed, leaving Esmeralda the one with her back pressed against the sheets. She doesn’t protest, only groans happily as her husband takes control over their movements. He thrusts in and out of her, the motions fast and short to speed their journey toward that glorious climax that is building between them.
Ever the gentleman, Phoebus always pleasures Esmeralda to her limit before finishing with himself. Even as he continues to pound into her, one hand travels down her body, over her thigh, and between her legs. He strokes her where they are joined, the gentleness of his fingers a stark contrast to the fierce force of his hips grinding into her.
The stroking is all it takes to send Esmeralda into the height of her passions and pleasures. As her body tightens around him, her head falls back as she screams his name into the night.
All it takes is three more thrusts inside her until Phoebus joins his wife in that unlimited bliss. After both have screamed themselves hoarse, the pair collapse onto the bed, Phoebus falling away from Esmeralda so she is not trapped under him. Esmeralda reaches from her husband but Phoebus is sitting up and pulling away from her. Before she can utter a protest, he is already returning to her arms, pulling the blanket with him. She laughs as he lays the blanket over both their bodies and wraps her tightly in his arms.
Their sweat soaked skin brushes together as they settle back onto their bed. Phoebus brushes Esmeralda’s long hair away from her face so he can press a kiss to her forehead.
“I love you, my champion in shining armor,” she whispers to him.
“I love you, my Gypsy dancer.”
---
It's a bit cliche, a bit lovey-dovey, but I had fun writing it. It was definitely a guilty pleasure fill.
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